


Drinking Days

by Penrose_Forgeries



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, Drunk!Dick, Drunk!Jason, Family, Gen, Hangover, Little brothers getting back at them, Poor Bruce, These two should not be allowed to go out together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penrose_Forgeries/pseuds/Penrose_Forgeries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting woken up at 2 am by a drunk acrobat and a drunk marksman is never fun. Bruce can say that from experience</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking Days

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, Let me know what you think?

Drinking Days

 

Bruce groaned. Glancing at the clock beside his bed he saw that it was two am. Normally the vigilante would still be out patrolling the streets of Gotham at this time but he had had a long off-world mission with the League and had needed a break. Dick had volunteered to do the patrol for him and he had gladly accepted… speaking of Dick… was that his voice that had awoken him at this ungodly hour?!

Against his better judgement Bruce got out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown (black silk of course). Opening up his door he saw his two youngest sons also coming out of their rooms. Tim yawned as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, a confused look on his face, "Dad? What's going on?" the young hero's voice was slurred.

Damian stared up at him, his tired state making him more irritable than usual. "If you don't shut those two idiots up I will end them." He muttered before going back to bed, slamming his door shut behind him.

Bruce squeezed Tim's shoulder; the poor guy was falling asleep where he stood. "Why don't you go back to bed Timmy, I'll handle this." Tim mumbled something that sounded sarcastic before shuffling back to bed.

Going down the stairs he stopped at the door of the living room, taking a moment to simply take in the scene before him.

Dick, glad in his Nightwing outfit, was doing a handstand on the back of the couch, giggling hysterically as Jason stood behind the couch tickling his stomach. Eventually the tickling seemed to get to him as Dick toppled on to the couch before falling to the floor. Jason howled with laughed, doubling over and clutching his stomach.

Jason's helmet was lying next to the door but his eyes were still covered by the domino mask. What worried Bruce was the fact that Dick's bright blue eyes were exposed to the world. He cleared his throat to gain their attention.

Both looked up. "Oh shit!" Jason said, trying to stifle his laughs.

Dick swallowed before adding in a terrible imitation of Bruce's Batman voice, "It's Batman!"

Silence followed... before the two began laughing again. Bruce narrowed his eyes, "Are you two drunk?"

Dick gasped dramatically. Jason stared at him in shock, fanning hurt, "Why I never!"

Bruce glared. "You were supposed to be on patrol! Not getting wasted!"

Dick stood, swaying slightly on his normally steady feet, "In our defence… it was a surprisingly quiet night!" he said, his voice changing pitch as he did so.

"Dick where is your mask?!" Bruce demanded.

Dick thought hard for moment, reaching up to feel his face as if expecting it to still be there, before realization dawned on him. "Ace has it! We got home and Ace didn't have a mask and he was going to get recognised! I had to help!"

Bruce shook his head, internally relieved that his son hadn't exposed himself in Gotham, "I am too tired to deal with this right now. To bed! Both of you!" he ordered pointing in the direction of the stairs.

Dick and Jason stood next to each other and saluted. "Sir Yes sir!" they chorused together.

"March!" Bruce growled. The two started up the stairs chanting 'left, right, left' as they went. Bruce groaned before following. Jason thankfully went straight to his room, falling on the bed and passing out on his stomach, mouth hanging open. Bruce went through to his a joined bathroom and pulled the bucket from under the sink and placed it beside the bed, knowing that Jason would need it in the morning.

Closing his door he turned back to his eldest sons' room, about to do the same for him, only to stop when he found the acrobat commando crawling down the hall, past Damian's room and towards Tim's door. "Dick? What are you doing?"

The black haired twenty five year old froze. "Shhh! You'll wake up Timmy!" he whispered urgently.

Bruce's eye twitched. "Dick go to bed."

"But I haven't said good night to Timmy yet!" he whined, genuine tears forming in his eyes.

'I hate my life', Bruce thought as he pulled his adult son to his feet and put an arm around him in comfort, "There there Dick. You can always say good night to him tomorrow." Bruce said. Trying to reason with the acrobat when he was intoxicated was like trying to convince a four year old that needles were fun, aka near impossible.

Dick suddenly flipped backwards, somehow landing on his feet. Without a word Dick headed down the hall towards Bruce's room. 'Well at least he's leaving Timmy alone.' Bruce thought as he followed. Entering his room Bruce felt a small smile tug at his lips. Dick had decided to fall asleep in his bed.

Bruce couldn't bring himself to wake him. His annoyance forgotten, the billionaire retrieved a bucket and placed his beside the bed. Leaning down he pressed a gentle kiss to his son's forehead, "Goodnight Chum."

He then headed to Dick's room, where he was finally able to get some sleep.

* * *

 

When Bruce awoke next it was at the reasonable time of nine am. It took him a few heartbeats to realise where he was before memories of the mornings events came back.

The sound of pained moans and laughter caught his ear. Leaving Dick's room to investigate he found Tim explaining string theory to Jason as the elder alternated between throwing things at the younger and vomiting into the toilet. He hesitantly walked further to his own room where he found Damian playing dubstep music (at top volume) and throwing what appeared to be metal balls at Dick, who was also hunched over the toilet. The words 'never again' being repeated like a mantra.

Bruce smirked, 'Never again my ass.'

 


End file.
